(Which is from a spec script I'm working on, called "Hollyweird")
JOHN, an aspiring young writer is talking to his would-be agent, Drake, a seriously spooky Christopher Walken-type, with a lot of mysterious connections. Drake is revealing to John why every movie in Hollywood sucks - all the studio-heads are dark sorcerors who put curses on each other's production.
Establishing Shot: - EXT: Office building in Burbank, DAY
INT: Drake's Office - DAY
John: So the Masons are behind chick flicks?
Drake: Yeah, mostly. Well not "Thelma and Louise", that was... let's not talk about that.
John: Anything else I should know?
Drake: You ever wonder why traffic's so bad?
John: No, not really. Too many people who all have their own cars.
Drake: Johnny-boy! Oh, Johnny. (Laughs)
Drake: That's great! You're so naive, my little cowlick-milk-and-cookies Johnny!
John: What? What is it?
Drake: It's not the cars, John, it's the zombies.
Drake: Yeah. There's this guy. He really hates cars, rides his bike everywhere. Anyway, he has this thing for zombies. A real thing, you know? Can't stop fiddling with 'em. But he hates cars, and the people in the cars, so he sends zombies out to drive real slow. Usually on the 101, just to cause a jam. Every morning.
John: Don't people notice zombies, just driving around? I mean, you look over, and there's a zombie!
Drake: Nah. He just dresses 'em up like old people. No one ever looks twice.